


Be of Service

by lielabell



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn Battle, Service, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, set in "la la set whenever" land
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 09:51:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/660583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lielabell/pseuds/lielabell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Does he do it often?  Does he close his eyes and think of Merlin’s hands on him?  His mouth?  Does he come with Merlin’s name on his lips?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be of Service

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cymbalism219 (cymbalism)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cymbalism/gifts).



> This fic came about because of Cymbalism and Porn Battle XIV (Fiery Fourteen). 
> 
> Cymbalism because I whinged to her about how uninspired I was by the Porn Battle prompts for my current favorite fandom and she suggested trying something new. Point of fact, she said, _"you can pretend Arthur never died and try your hand at Merlin for the first time [...] Merlin catches Arthur jerking off one morning, Arthur was thinking of him, everything somehow ends in a blow job because those are my favorite."_ And I said YES!
> 
> Porn Battle XIV (Fiery Fourteen) because they happened to have an Arthur/Merlin masturbation prompt. And why the hell not?

No matter what Arthur might say on the matter, Merlin takes his position seriously. He might use a little magic here and there, lighten the load when some dollop-headed, idiot prince made it a bit too heavy a burden, but that didn't mean that he didn't appreciate doing an honest day's work every now and then. 

Take now, for instance. Merlin is hauling an armful of logs up the endless stairs and down the overly long hallways all on his own, no magic whatsoever, to make sure that Arthur has a nice, hot room to return to after his long day of being out in the wet. Arthur didn't even have to command him to, either. Merlin came up with the idea all on his own. A nice little surprise, he thought, to have a fire going, a feast on the table, and a hot bath waiting when Arthur came stumbling in. That would certainly put a smile on Arthur's face, something that had been sadly lacking with all the, well, upheaval of late. 

Merlin lets out a happy whistle as he walks, enjoying the thought of how pleased Arthur will be, though he'll probably posture and scowl and cast about for something to find fault with. Because the world will end if Arthur expresses anything other than annoyance at Merlin’s performance. Merlin shakes his head fondly as he comes up to Arthur’s door. 

A quick glance proves that he is alone in the hall, so Merlin lets his eyes flash yellow and quickly hisses out a the spell to open the door. It swings open and Merlin hurries inside, shutting it behind him with another whispered spell. He’s halfway across the room, heading for the hearth, when a moan pulls him up short.

Merlin’s eyes flick to the bed and feels his jaw drop. Because there, sprawled out against the dark red sheets, is Arthur-- naked as the day he was born. 

He’s got his eyes shut and his lip caught between his teeth as his hand works his cock, fast and hard, thumb caressing the crown on each upstroke. Merlin bites back a startled moan of his own as he watches Arthur push up into the circle of his fingers, his back arching as he works himself. Arthur’s mouth drops open, his eye fluttering behind closed lids, and he hisses, belly tightening as his hand moves between his legs.

Merlin knows he should look away, that this isn’t something Arthur wants him to see, but he can’t. All he can do is stand there, feeling flushed and guilty, as his prince fucks eagerly into his hand. 

Arthur’s lips part, he sucks in a shuddering breath and then moans. “ _Merlin_.” He bucks up, hand reaching down to tug at his balls. “ _Merlin_.” 

Merlin’s brain stutters. His arms going limp, sending the forgotten load of logs clattering to the ground. Arthur’s eyes snap open, wide and disbelieving, before his mouth opens in a shout. “MERLIN!” His hands shift to cover himself as he gapes at Merlin. “For the love of, what are you, get out!” Arthur yanks at his blankets, tugging one across his lap as he points at the door. 

Merlin is frozen in place, his heart is pounding loud in his ears, taking in the mussed up hair, the hot flush on Arthur’s cheeks, and the swollen pout of his mouth. Then he’s stumbling back towards the door, muttering shamed apologies all the way. 

It’s not until he’s in the hallway, door slammed closed behind him, that the reality of what just happened catches up to him. Arthur said _his name_. Arthur was laying there, touching himself, and he said _Merlin’s_ name. Not Gwen’s or any of the other ladies of the court. His. Merlin’s. In spite of the fact that Arthur mocks his jug ears and lanky frame, when it comes to finding his release, Arthur’s thoughts apparently turn to Merlin. 

Does he do it often? Does he close his eyes and think of Merlin’s hands on him? His mouth? Does he come with Merlin’s name on his lips? Merlin’s teeth sink into his lower lip and he groans at the images playing out in his head. Is that how Arthur wants Merlin to serve him? On his knees? Merlin cock hardens in his smalls and he drops a hand down to palm at it, heat mixing with shame in his stomach. 

Arthur is more than just his prince, Arthur is his _friend_. Merlin shouldn’t be thinking about him like that, shouldn’t be picturing all the ways that he could please his master. Except... Except Arthur is apparently thinking about that too. It was Arthur who was naked in his bed, working himself while moaning Merlin’s name.

Merlin dithers for a moment, palm still pressed tight against his cock. He could find some hidey-hole and bring himself off to that very thought. Or he could go back into Arthur’s room and offer his services-- in whatever way would please Arthur the most. 

“Right.”

Merlin squares his shoulders and nods his head. “Right,” he says again, then turns and faces Arthur’s door. 

He presses his lips together, steeling his nerve as he reaches out for the latch. The door swings open silently, and Merlin steps in, closing it just as quietly behind him as he takes in the scene. He is expecting Arthur to chuck a chamber pot at his head or hurl insults at him, not to find an Arthur so consumed in his thoughts that he once again fails to notice Merlin’s entry. 

Arthur is sitting on the edge of his bed, head buried in his hands, sheets bunched around his waist. His shoulders are slumped and he looks dejected in a way that Merlin hasn’t seen before. Merlin’s hands ball into fists at his sides. Part of him wants to comfort Arthur, the other is still eager to serve him. Merlin licks at his lips, debating with himself over the best course of action. 

The choice is taken from him when Arthur raises his head, his eyes hot with desire. 

Merlin doesn’t speak, just crosses the room until he is standing directly in front of Arthur. Arthur’s eyes widen briefly before going half lidded. His lips curl into a smirk, but his hands are shaking and Merlin knows what he has to do. He reaches out, and slowly pulls the blanket back. 

Arthur sucks in a breath, losing his mask of arrogance. “What are you--” he starts to say, but cut off in a hiss as Merlin drops to his knees. Merlin moves in deliberately, hand circling around Arthur’s half hard cock. 

“Did you picture me like this? On my knees in front of you?” Merlin asks. Arthur makes a choked, desperate sound in response. “Was it my hand you wanted?” Merlin’s hand tightens as he starts to stroke. “Or was it my mouth?” 

“ _Merlin._ ” Arthur’s voice is dark, with a hint of danger in it. 

Merlin ignores it. He ducks down, licking at the slit before taking the head into his mouth. Merlin mouths at it, then works his tongue under the foreskin, which causes Arthur to groan. Heat curls in Merlin’s belly as his lips stretch around Arthur’s cock. He pulls back, licking around the crown as his hand slides slowly up and down. Arthur’s hands flatten against his thighs as he hisses. 

Merlin rolls his eyes up and watches as Arthur bites at his lips. He pulls away to ask, “More?” 

“Yes.” Arthur draws out the word, giving it more syllables that it has right to. “Stop teasing me, Merlin.”

He says Merlin’s name the way he always does, with that faint hint of exasperation, and Merlin feels something flair inside of him. He bends his neck, licking at the head one final time before sucking Arthur down. Merlin tightens his hand around the base of Arthur’s cock, holding it steady as he pushes down as far as he can. Merlin hollows his cheeks as he slides up, tongue pushing firm along the underside. He breathes in through his nose as he pushes back down, lips brushing briefly against his knuckles. 

Arthur lets out a high whine, his hips lift up, and his legs dropping further apart. “Your mouth, Merlin, your mouth.”

Merlin reaches out with his free hand and pulls Arthur hand out of the bedding. He draws it to his head, pressing it flat against his hair, hoping that Arthur will get the hint. Then he drops his hand down to play with Arthur’s balls. 

“You want this?” Arthur asks, his voice raw, his other hand coming up to fist in Merlin’s hair. He pushes Merlin’s head down as his hips buck up, and Merlin’s eyes roll back. Then, “You like it,” Arthur tells him, sounding as smug as Merlin as ever heard him. 

Merlin pulls back a bit, until only the head is in his mouth. He laves at it, tongue working the slit, while Arthur pants and moans above him. He dips his head, taking Arthur deep again, bobbing up and down to the rhythm set by Arthur’s hands. 

Arthur’s head tips back and he moans, his thighs tensing. “I’m close,” he warns as his hips start to jerk erratically. “Merlin, I’m going to--” his words end in a shout, his back arching, hands tightening in Merlin’s hair as he comes, hot and salt, in Merlin’s mouth. 

Merlin contemplates pulling back, turning his head to the side, and spitting it out, but the mess it would make isn’t worth the effort, so instead he just swallows it down. Arthur shudders at the sensation, and Merlin smirks to himself. He suckles at Arthur’s spent cock, until Arthur is hissing, hips shifting in discomfort instead of pleasure.

Merlin looks up at Arthur, catches Arthur’s gaze with his own, before allowing Arthur’s cock to fall out of his mouth. Merlin deliberately licks his lips, then lowers a hand to the front of his trousers, fingers tangling in the laces.

“No.”

Merlin freezes, his brow furrowing in confusion. His stomach sours as he realizes that this was about Arthur’s pleasure, not his own. That he was serving his prince and nothing more. “Oh.” He feels his cheeks heat up with shame, all desire leaving him in a rush. Merlin pushes upright, then stumbles back a step. “It’s late, I’d best--”

“No!” 

Arthur surges to his feet, one hand coming up to clutch at Merlin’s shoulder while the other fumbles at the front of Merlin’s trousers. 

“Let me,” he says, his breath hot on Merlin’s cheek. “Please, Merlin, let me.” 

Then his hand is working the lacings free, tugging Merlin’s trousers and smalls down to expose his soft cock. Arthur makes a wounded sound, his eyes wild as his hand jerks back. “Don’t you want me?”

Merlin flushes, catching his lower lip between his teeth. “Yes,” he admits. He opens his mouth to say more, to explain why he’s no longer hard, but Arthur cuts him off with a kiss.

It’s inelegant, not at all the practiced thing Merlin imagined Arthur’s kiss would be. No, this is all desperation and lips pressed tight against each other, while Arthur’s hand closes hot and tight around Merlin’s thickening cock. 

“Let me have this,” Arthur pulls back to say, his eyes dark and half lidded. 

Merlin makes a helpless noise, body arching into Arthur’s touch. He never expected this. Never thought that Arthur would be willing to see to Merlin’s needs. But here Arthur is, smiling like a cat who caught the canary, working Merlin with the same rhythm he had used on himself. It’s fast and dry-- nothing like the way Merlin touches himself-- but good, oh so good. Merlin feels his balls tightening and he clutches at Arthur’s shoulder. 

“Close,” he hisses, rocking up into each stroke, and Arthur lets out a please sound.

“Yes,” he says, “give it to me.” 

And just like that Merlin is spilling into Arthur’s hand. 

He slumps against Arthur, eyes fluttering closed. “Good,” he says, lips brushing against the strong column of Arthur’s throat. “So good.”

“Of course it was good, Merlin,” Arthur says, and Merlin doesn’t have to be looking at him to know that he accompanied the words with a roll of the eyes. “It was me.”

“Arrogant prat,” Merlin says fondly.

“Careful,” Arthur replies, “language like that can get you in the stocks.”

Merlin snorts. “And who’s going to report me? You?”

“I could,” Arthur says grumpily. 

“Mmmm,” Merlin hums into Arthur’s shoulder. 

Arthur tsks, but in that warm, familiar way of his, and then tilts Merlin’s head up for another kiss. It’s slow and sweet, the exact opposite of the kiss they shared before, and Merlin can’t help but feel like it is his reward for service well rendered. 

“Thank you,” he says when Arthur pulls back, earning himself a befuddled look. 

“I should be thanking you,” Arthur says, with a shake of the head. “You didn’t have to--”

Merlin cuts him off with stern look. “It was my choice,” he tells Arthur, poking him firmly in chest. “My choice and my pleasure. And don’t you forget it.” 

The look he gets in return is as fond as it is exasperated. “You really are the worst servant.” Arthur captures Merlin’s hand and presses it flat against his chest. “The way you talk back.” 

Merlin snorts. “Most excellent servant, you mean.”

“No, no. I’m pretty certain I meant worst,” Arthur says, but he’s smiling like a loon and Merlin can’t help but smile back.


End file.
